CommunalTable is an umbrella for event producers that come together to help each other create salon suppers that "bring art, ideas, activism and food right to the table." Co-founded with catering partner Deena Lebow, we present three or four event a year.
This one was held in a funky DUMBO loft and on the
day of the event it so happened some movie company was filming a bus crash
scene on the cobbled neighborhood streets, lending a dream-like air to the
entrance of the converted industrial building. Inside you had to wind through a
maze of rusted machine shop carcasses that cast elongated anthropomorphic shadows in the waning
light. Pigeons, who'd flown through shattered skylight panels to nest
in massive ceiling struts were buffeted by breezes perfumed with stray cat
urine and odoriferous garbage trucks garaged the floor below.
At last, first sight into the loft proper was a take-your-breath-away close-up of the Brooklyn Bridge through floor to ceiling windows. Waves on the river below glinted in the rising moonlight while inside, a robotic Gamelatron chimed random half tone harmonics. Chaise lounges and batik throw pillows offered comfy perching spots from which to sip Dragon’s Breath, a cocktail concocted by Mihir Desai from coconut flower aarack, (a fermented Southeast Asian beverage similar to whisky) and velvet falernum (a spicy, citrusy low-proof rum-like liqueur from Barbados) topped with a splash of Chartreuse (a pale green medicinal liqueur dating from the seventeenth c.) We nibbled unnaturally colored pastel shrimp crisps and a rainbow of naturally hued crudités.
At last, first sight into the loft proper was a take-your-breath-away close-up of the Brooklyn Bridge through floor to ceiling windows. Waves on the river below glinted in the rising moonlight while inside, a robotic Gamelatron chimed random half tone harmonics. Chaise lounges and batik throw pillows offered comfy perching spots from which to sip Dragon’s Breath, a cocktail concocted by Mihir Desai from coconut flower aarack, (a fermented Southeast Asian beverage similar to whisky) and velvet falernum (a spicy, citrusy low-proof rum-like liqueur from Barbados) topped with a splash of Chartreuse (a pale green medicinal liqueur dating from the seventeenth c.) We nibbled unnaturally colored pastel shrimp crisps and a rainbow of naturally hued crudités.
The first presenter was philosopher and inter-species
musician David
Rothenberg , a jazz saxophonist known for his duets with
nature. Previously I’d heard recordings of his call and response duets with
songbirds, and also a layered composition for birdsong, whalesong and clarinet
using sounds stretched and compressed by a run through his synthesizer. For CT
he was agog with the promised “Swarmageddon,” the reemergence after 17 years
dormancy of the periodical
cicada. (BTW: I searched hi and low, here and through a source in Indonesia
for cicada powder, a protein-rich flour I’d hoped to make into fritters. Alas,
to no avail.) David came with copies of his newly released CD, Bug Music, and
serenaded us with screechy cicada inspired syncopations. What I love about
David is his ideas about beauty and nature (I wrote about him
here), and his passion for the musicality of all sound, but this nights
breathy elongated wails set my teeth on edge. To my ears his music really was for the
birds. David had brought
quite a number of friends with him, all of whom felt they deserved discounted
tickets. Gosh, I barely come anywhere near break-even on these events, but nor
do I pay my presenters so this request put me in a bind of obligation and debt.
One of these friends, loud and testy from Dragon’s Breath, fell mid program into
deep, snore-punctuated sleep.
Next: our host Aaron Taylor Kuffner has traveled
the world studying gamelan, documenting
and working to develop written notation for these traditional Indonesian
orchestral societies. Back in Brooklyn he co-created Gamelatron, a
collaboratively developed iteration of gamelan using algorithmically programmed
computerized robotic arms that strike imported cast bronze gongs. One wall of
his loft is devoted to a beautiful Mandala shaped installation of gongs and
arms and we had the good fortune to hear them chime. I had listened to
Aaron speak about this project several years back and at that time was
profoundly moved by the beauty of the music and by his passion for learning
about, sharing and helping to preserve an art form that is in decline.
Since then the Gamelatron has meet with rousing success, causing sadly a
grievously swelled head. Despite the beauty he has created Aaron
exhibited a ghastly case of White Savior Complex, exemplifying cultural
appropriation at its worst by claiming to have saved the gamelan tradition. He
fancies himself THE voice of the music today. For me, the sound of his
arrogance drowned out the extraordinary sound of the gongs.
Along with the cocktail, Mihir brought his
sonicator for show and tell. This device, more frequently used in a laboratory
than a kitchen uses sound wave vibrations for cell
disruption, particle dispersion, and homogenization. You stick a probe in
a beaker of liquid mixed with herbs that is placed inside a box that dulls the
ear splitting sound waves that travel through the probe into the liquid,
smashing up the cells. Unlike tea where you steep dried herbs in hot water to
draw out the flavor, the disrupted cells release flavor without heat so the
fresh and raw herbs taste just that, fresh and raw. In the case of the cocktail
Mihir infused aarak with Thai basil, and a simple syrup with tropical pandan.
Using the sonicator for particle dispersion or homogenization has other
applications, for example, vinaigrette. Typically oil whisked with vinegar
creates a bond that lasts just barely long enough to dress a salad. In the
sonicator the bonds gain strength and longevity and the technique opens
possibility for unusual bonds—say lemony duck fat mayonnaise or some such
thing. What's cool is that we're used to thinking of cooking being done with
heat or by chemical means (like the acid of citrus "cooking"
ceviche,) or bacterial fermentation, (like bacteria and salt
"cooking" pickles.) Now we can add sound to our arsenal.
Between speakers, guests were treated to Indonesian
and Malaysian flavored small plates-- satays with a peanut dipping sauce made by
a friend of a friend who cooks for the Malaysian Mission. Then fried sambal
eggs with green papaya salad. Slightly undercooked hardboiled eggs are deep
fried until golden and crisp and tossed in sambal belacan- a blend
of shallots, chilies, toasted shrimp paste and palm sugar slowly fried in coconut oil. The next plate was fish morsels steamed in banana leaf with sambal
oelek, toasted coconut, crispy shallots and turmeric rice. Black sticky rice
pudding with coconut cream and chilled mango, and chocolate-dipped biodynamic
sundried bananas made dessert. My friend Barry Schwartz has a
small operation selling hand-batched tempeh at area farmer's markets made
from a recipe he perfected during his years cooking at a yoga ashram. He joined
us and cooked up tasting portions of several different kinds of tempeh and told
about his process making these fermented grain and bean cakes that originated
in Indonesia.
Each element, despite my
snippy complaints was more than interesting and the food was plentiful and
delicious, so why do I feel the event fell short of my goal, which was to create an evening that broadened and expanded thoughts about sound? Part of what was missing was cohesion. In planning, I'd gotten excited
thinking of all these sounds and took delight drawing connections between
sounds found in nature, and as a part of the richness of human culture, and in
a unique science-of-sound kind of way, and I built the program on that. But during the event I didn't share my thought process or help the guests connect the
disparate parts. Plus, at this event the food acted as decorative frill rather than as a voice in the telling of the evenings story. I
realize now I need to spell out the conceptual base of the event both for the
audience to fully engage and to guide the speaker’s presentations. This puts me
in a position I'm uncomfortable being in, that of director and MC. I much prefer
hanging in the back of the house with the food.
What was missing from the evening was that fantastic aha! moment when ideas stretch and expand. And this is precisely a place where food could and should have supported this process. Instead, I relyed on a simplistic obvious connection (Indonesian music = Indonesian food.) To come up with a menu that uses ingredients as well as the experience of eating to address the concepts at hand requires way deeper introspection, and also a willingness to engage and guide the audience. Without doing these more challenging steps, the work remains just an entertainment when what I want is for these events to be art.
What was missing from the evening was that fantastic aha! moment when ideas stretch and expand. And this is precisely a place where food could and should have supported this process. Instead, I relyed on a simplistic obvious connection (Indonesian music = Indonesian food.) To come up with a menu that uses ingredients as well as the experience of eating to address the concepts at hand requires way deeper introspection, and also a willingness to engage and guide the audience. Without doing these more challenging steps, the work remains just an entertainment when what I want is for these events to be art.
Wondering about the sound of one hand clapping is a
Zen koan meant to cause reflection. Some believe the sound is silence, a sound
we have trouble hearing. In the case of this CommunalTable it was the sound of
missed connections. An evening based on all things sound needed the crisp slap
of two hands clapping for attention.
Fried Sambal Eggs is a simple and
standard Malaysian dish though to me it was a revelation. I'd never thought of
frying a hardboiled egg but doing so produces a nutty flavor and the craggy
texture holds the sauce. I found making the sambal tricky. Every recipe I
read speaks about cooking sambal long enough for the oil to separate and come
to the surface, and every picture shows a glorious layer of chili-rich red oil but no
matter how long I stirred, this separation never occurred. I've since
discovered a tasty sambal in a box I buy in Chinatown. If you're near an Asian
market-- look for
Khim Yan Curry brand Sambal Nasi Lemak. To figure out the eggs I used an
amalgam of these two recipes (and recommend both sites.)
Green Papaya Salad is made
from rock hard unripe papayas with honeydew colored flesh and white seeds,
quite different from more commonly found ripe papayas with their shocking orange
flesh and black seeds. The papayas vary tremendously in size and last a
pretty long time. Basically the salad is a slaw. I prefer the texture of
painstakingly hand-cut super-fine juliennes to Cuisinart grated shreds but
really either way will make a nice dish. Just like with cabbage slaw you can add a lot of ingredients
or keep it simple. Traditional Indonesian versions include long beans and
tomato. Shred 4 cups of peeled, seeded green papaya flesh and toss with 1/4 c.
freshly squeezed lime juice, 1 T. fish sauce, 1 T. granulated palm sugar (or
whatever sugar you have) and a handful of chopped roasted peanuts and
cilantro. Taste for salt.
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